


raining with(out) you

by tenderyeol



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji-centric, BokuAka Week, BokuAka Week 2020, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Graduation, M/M, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25763608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderyeol/pseuds/tenderyeol
Summary: “I love the rain because I love you…” Akaashi finally sighs, cutting their last threads and watching Bokuto’s hand fall slack at his side, “But that doesn’t matter anymore because, just like the rain, you’ll be leaving soon."— in which graduation is coming soon and Keiji isn't sure if he deserves something more Koutaro might have to offer.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Kudos: 33





	raining with(out) you

**Author's Note:**

> bokuaka week 2020 day 8: weather/rain/seasons— a little piece as a birthday treat for one of the best friends i could have ever asked for, miss inês! i noticed a lot of people still perceive akaashi as cold and can't seem to see past his bluntness, so i had to do something about it using the thing i love the most besides literature (yes, the rain).

Rain knocks on the rooftop of Fukurodani’s gym and enters Akaashi’s heart just before the clock strikes six in the afternoon, a slight promise of thunder somewhere along the way.

The other boys had long been gone, worried about catching a cold if it started raining. After all, their obligations with the volleyball club were done and the dusk of high school has already settled into their bones like a parasite. They were right in the end, and it elicits a sigh from Akaashi’s tired lungs, hands catching the ball Bokuto sends him instead of setting it.

Shoes shriek into a stop and then softly thump to his side- his heart aches and jumps like always at the beat of its companion, ever in synch yet so distant.

He could count on one hand the number of times he had thought of goodbyes back in his first year, but now nothing seems to ever last long enough. Akaashi wouldn’t say he minds becoming captain, the responsibility he has felt as vice-captain isn’t very different; but bidding farewell to most of his teammates, to _him_ , sounds like the cruellest thing he has ever had to go through.

If only their silence stretched towards the rain and pushed it back into its clouds, rewinding time and making it as long as their last weeks will allow- but Akaashi isn’t selfish enough to ask that of anyone, much less of _him_.

( _Him_ makes the distance longer, tastes less bitter than _Bokuto_ or even _Koutaro._ )

“We should clean up, Bokuto-san,” he lets himself cut the clock and try to move along with it, tic toc against a court and two years which will always remain theirs.

They work around in a slow dance, the pitter-patter outside stabilizing both of their breaths after so many hours of hard work, of attempting to save memories. Just like any other day, the net is brought down and the mop is swept around after everything is stored away in its rightful place. Unlike any other day though, Bokuto breaks the invisible wall that most likely never truly existed between them and holds Akaashi’s hand in his, pulls at it with the same need his voice expressed throughout all of their games, begs for his wholeness.

Somehow, the younger boy finds strength in himself to give it once again, even if it means today is the last day on their calendar before the page is turned and they’re pulled apart with it.

If he’s allowed to be honest, he always saw his own tendency to introspection as a big flaw. Why would someone so strong, so stable, have these moments of weakness? Where was the posture Keiji had constructed for himself?

Koutaro continues his journey to the outside world, perhaps thinking the skies will pity their youthful naivety and stop pouring for them. In fact, nature couldn’t care less; the water seeps slowly at first, then drenching their hairs and running down spines beneath their shirts.

“Do you like the rain?” Bokuto speaks secretly as his hair gel breaks with rainy pressure.

Akaashi recomposes himself and looks into the other boy’s eyes, trying to find out if there’s anything behind the quiet way he’s being addressed. The golden sparks he has grown to love so much are curtained with a greyish mess of black and white, a lot darker now compared to when they’re dry. Keiji wonders if he could dare a little today, whether the intimacy in the air is fruit of his imagination or simply there for awakening- so he does, he takes a step closer with their hands still entwined and raises his other hand towards the spiker’s fringe.

Bokuto’s eyes slide shut and a pleased hum escapes his throat when the setter’s hand works its way through his hair and finally rests at the back of his head, a world of their own.

_Maybe we really are doing this now_ , Akaashi thinks.

Although his heart starts beating at the same speed of the drops around them with glee, the adrenaline quickly runs dry and lodges a lump on his throat. Even if Bokuto was inching forward, nothing good would come out of this new moment of weakness, this new introspection the younger’s mind had projected into real life.

His hand slides from the other boy’s nape down his shoulder and arm until it reaches his hand, finally breaking the spell they were in. Bokuto’s eyes shoot open with a dull fear to them, constricting Akaashi’s heart with the same strength being applied to his hand still held captive.

It almost feels like a last plea to stay, as if he could.

“I love the rain,” he dares to take a step further away from his friend, “I love when it rains while I’m home because I get to pick up my notebook for a sole minute and write about you. I love it because I can jump on my windowsill and relax at the slight scratch of charcoal against paper with water drops as background music. I love it because we get to share umbrellas after practice when you forget yours, because I get to indulge myself for a few seconds since you won’t question me huddling closer for warmth. I love the way it gets your eyes shining with excitement, even though anyone who doesn’t know you would guess it to bring your mood down.

“I love the rain because I love _you_ …” Akaashi finally sighs, cutting their last threads and watching Bokuto’s hand fall slack at his side, “But that doesn’t matter anymore because, just like the rain, you’ll be leaving soon. I guess I just… thought I could stay on that ledge with the notebook on my lap forever. Excuse me, Bokuto-san”.

For a long time, the only thing Keiji can distinguish is the white noise of his own brain, a wreck of thoughts resulting in ultimate silence; then, when his vision focuses on the stairs to the Fukurodani changing rooms, he finally restarts to listen to the sad lullaby his sloppy footprints produce against the wet floor. That’s when the tears start coming, a trembling lip overpowering the strength of his teeth biting on it.

His tears dry to the inevitable truth of what just happened as he opens the spare plastic bag inside his locker and shoves his drenched training equipment inside it.

His calm returns while showering with the familiar hum of overthinking (because it obviously had to end this way, because now he can move on from the ache installed in his heart since that fateful day in middle school, because finally _Koutaro_ can turn into less than _Bokuto_ , simply _him_ ).

His guilt takes over when he’s all dried up and putting his last piece of clothing to the door’s mournful click.

“Did you mean it?” comes Koutaro’s voice, quieter than it has ever sounded.

Akaashi can’t bring himself to answer at the image of pure brokenness in front of him, instead grabbing some dry towel and moving past whatever his speech had been to drape it over the spiker’s shoulders with a shy nod.

“You actually like me?” he repeats, voice cracking and body shaking, “Not just over volleyball?” another question, another affirmative nod.

“And didn’t you ever wonder why I never asked about that one pile of books I wasn’t allowed to touch? Didn’t you ever think I forgot my umbrella on purpose, that I was dying for those seconds a little closer to you?” Koutaro goes on, the sadness in his voice mixing with something the setter can’t quite distinguish yet.

“Akaashi, did you seriously never think that maybe I loved the rain because it reminded me of you? I know I might be leaving soon, but I could never leave _you_ … Rain always comes back when we need it the most, right?”

The first flash of lightning explodes in the sky and lights up the room through the small window behind the spiker, making his expression unknown in favour of showcasing Akaashi’s. Soon, the strike of thunder follows like an alarm clock, which kick-starts their bodies into union.

Although Bokuto is shaking with cold, shoulder blades shifting beneath Keiji’s hands where they meet with hope, his lips are pure lava. The kiss is clumsy and rushed at first: the older boy’s hands travel from the other’s waist to his neck and lastly his cheeks, resting there like the only possible anchor in the middle of their storm. Akaashi sighs when they part for a small second, immediately connecting their kiss again in a selfish attempt to memorize each detail- smooth lips with a leftover taste of strawberry lip balm, sharp canines and a chipped molar, hesitant hands on a sturdy body.

A new series of thunder causes them to startle out of their bond, quickly eliciting a fit of giggles from Bokuto. He looks the happiest like this, pearly white teeth matching with a rosy patch of glee on top of his nose. The setter finds himself smiling back, the clouds which previously blinded his mind floating away with each peck his self-proclaimed boyfriend leaves all over his face, consecutively louder smacks being heard just for the sake of it.

He had forgotten Bokuto wasn’t exactly like the rain, but a bit more like thunder- vast, powerful, breathtakingly so. Akaashi himself, however, wouldn’t bother being the rain for a while.

At least, this way, they went well together.


End file.
